Sea Maiden
by The Gypsy Queen
Summary: In between leaving the island he was marooned on, and 'sailing' into Port Royal, there are ten missing years. Why did it take Jack so long to get the Pearl? What does it have to do with the new inhabitant of Port Royal?
1. Chapter 1

Sea Maiden  
  
  
  
(In between Jack leaving the island, and 'sailing' into Port Royal, where was he? Im thinking Jack was 23 when he was marooned, which makes him 33 in PotC)  
  
10 years previous to PotC  
  
Jack Sparrow dug his toe into the sand and looked around at the lush island landscape. He was getting fed up with islands. The loss of the pearl stung, it had only been a week since he had been marooned by the mutinous dog Barbossa, and he wanted off islands and on the Pearl, preferably with the wrinkled pox-ridden bastard keelhauled underneath.  
  
In a mix of Spanish and English, the rumrunners he had come to shore with told him if he wasn't back by sunset he would be in the situation they found him in. Jack didn't argue, they would be spending their time stocking water and some live animals for the trip, he was free to wander off. Well, who was he to protest?  
  
So with a full bottle of rum he flipped a coin to choose the direction, left or right along the beach. Tails, left it was.  
  
He half staggered, half swaggered along the sand until the curve of the island took him out of sight of the rumrunners ship. The island was small enough to walk around in a day, the runners had chosen the sandy side, while there was no cover and it meant a longer row back to the ship, it meant that supplies would not have to be hauled up or sown any steep paths. On the opposite side was a series of cliffs and coves, some suitable for hiding a ship, according to the rumrunners sailing master. Jack carefully filed that tidbit away for further use. Of course, that only served to remind him of the loss of the Pearl. He took a long draw of the rum, and continued walking.  
  
He had barely taken three steps when he fell into a stream. It wasn't a big one, nor particularly deep, but it was enough of an inconvenience to make Jack take down half the bottle in one go and swear to the birds who whistled at his fall. He got to his feet, albeit it unsteadily, and decided a new course would be wise.   
  
From where he was, roughly quarter of an hour would get him to where the cliffs started, where apparently a bit of climbing and you could see for hundreds of miles. Jack wondered if he could still see the Pearl. It was impossible, but still worth a go.  
  
Given that logic, he started off again.  
  
The jungle started to thin as he drew closer to the rocky shore. Out of habit he had been making no noise as he walked. After years of taking watch on islands where rival pirates were lurking he could move silently and his captaincy had not blunted that. As he turned a large boulder he almost choked on his rum.   
  
The rock platforms and natural rock arches formed a natural lagoon, a good forty yards round. What startled him was the still surface being broken by a pair of hands, followed by a head and shoulders, all apparently belonging to female. Jack watched in fascination as she reached up and placed shells on the rock ledge, then swam away, and dived under. Jack swore. The quick flash of what he had thought would be a leg was blue green.  
  
Bloody rum.  
  
He took the opportunity to sneak closer as she was underwater, concealing himself behind a pile of rocks that had fallen beside a natural indent in the rock, which gave him an excellent view. If he was to be stuck on this godforsaken rock with no ship, he was entitled a little looksies.  
  
After a minute or so, the girl resurfaced, placing more shells on the ledge. Then her other hand appeared holding a dagger, which she placed between her teeth, as she lifted herself out to sit next to her pile of shells. Jack almost swallowed his tongue when he saw that from the hem of the short, dark shift she wore, unnecessary in his opinion, was a length of blue green scales. He toyed with the idea of leaving, but quickly dismissed it as a stupidly noble and useless gesture. Besides, a mermaid! Even if it was the rum, it was worth a watch.  
  
When she shifted to slip the dagger into the sheath at her waist Jack kicked himself for his foolishness. She did have legs; what he had thought was scales were some kind of tattoo covering all her legs down to her toes. Jack, who usually preferred his women unmarked, noticed that the coloring was actually rather attractive on her. Her wet hair hung halfway down her back, and was a dark auburn-red, her skin lightly tanned and part of another tattoo peeking over the top of the shift, not enough to make it out, but enough to be teasing Jacks curiosity. As Jack watched, she separated a strand of her hair at the nape of her neck from the rest of the mass and picked up the shells and started weaving them into a plait. As she continued, her hair dried, revealing golden streaks in amongst the reds and browns.   
  
At this point Jack had one of the moments of honesty that made his piratical career less … profitable than it should have been. He should make his presence known, the lady was almost certainly not a whore, and where she came from was presenting rather a puzzle to Jacks mind.  
  
Unconsciously keeping his soundless tread he walked towards her, realizing as he did that she was singing under her breath a version of an old Irish song he had heard an old man sing once in Tortuga, not long before the fiasco of the Pearl.  
  
"If he were a minstrel he'd sing me six love songs, To tell the whole world of the love that we share, If he were a merchant he'd bring me six diamonds, With six blood red roses on my head to wear, But he is a simple man, a poor common farmer, So gave me six ribbons to tie back my hair, Yellow and brown, blue as the sky, Red as his blood, green as my eyes."  
  
By now Jack was a scant yard away from her. His thought of scales had not been far off, the blue green color tattoo was in fact a rendering of scales completely covering her legs. Her nicely bare legs. He cleared his throat to speak, to say something unthreatening but at the sound the girl started and dove from her sitting position into the water. Jack swore under his breath, at least the whores in Tortuga stopped for a word. A few yards out she surfaced quietly, watching him with large green eyes.  
  
Unable to think of anything to say, Jack called out "Lovely day, isn't it?"  
  
As inane as it was, given the circumstances, it seemed to do the trick. The girl smiled, "Lovely," she agreed, her voice clear, with an Irish lilt.   
  
"How's the water?" He asked, slowly moving forward. She didn't start away again, but didn't move any closer.   
  
"The water is fine," she said, ducking under for a moment as if to emphasize her point.  
  
Jack grinned as an idea presented itself. He started unbuckling his belt.  
  
The girls eyes widened, "What are ye doing?" her accent stronger with surprise.  
  
His belt was placed on a flat boulder by him, followed by his hat, his smile turning somewhat predatory. "Well," he said, "It's a hot day, thought I'd like a swim since the waters so fine."  
  
"What?" the girl said, now very startled.  
  
Now his jacket joined his other effects, along with his boots. He paused and risked a sideways glance at the girl. She was slowly backing away, and kept looking over her shoulder at the rock barrier that separated the lagoon from the sea. "Relax, love," he said, "Just a swim, your honor is completely safe with me, savvy?"  
  
She relaxed somewhat but kept her weary distance. "Savvy," she agreed. She was still as he undid his cuffs but moved after a few moments to the side of the lagoon, hoisting herself onto the ledge. It was still a distance from Jack, but the same amount of distance to the sea. Jack interpreted it as she meant it, establishing a manner of trust.  
  
He watched out of the corner of his eye as he undid the ties at his neck and loosened his shirt from his pants. She was not attractive in the way most women were in Jacks experience. She wasn't the curvaceous, voluptuous women of Tortuga, nor the pale, slender things of the higher classes. She had all the right curves as the wet shift revealed, her arms and legs were slender and smooth like any woman's, but when she lifted herself it revealed under the skin were muscles, not bulky but strong certainly. She was lithe, that was the word.   
  
He tugged the shirt over his head, gratified to see that the girl was watching him from the corner of her eye, and a light blush spread across her cheeks. Nice to know his recent … downfalls hadn't blunted his edge. He had been involuntarily celibate for almost two months and even though this girl was not likely to provide relief, a little mutual observation was not unwelcome. Besides he could use an ego boost.  
  
He crouched down on the ledge, testing the water with his hand. It was an excellent temperature, the last tide had filled the lagoon up, while the tropical sun had warmed it up. Taking a deep breath, he dived into the water. Underwater the surroundings were soft green, the sand white underneath, seaweed and some type of coral grew along the back wall of the lagoon. Then from the green a face materialized, the girl had swum up to him, and now was a scant few inches away, her hair haloing around her. She grinned and gestured to the surface. He broke the water first, followed by her.  
  
"I'm Ann," she said.  
  
"Jack," he replied. If she wasn't supplying last names, neither was he. Her eyes were the same green as the water.  
  
They swam in silence for a good while, Ann slowly relaxing enough to allow unconscious contact. Through casual conversation he discovered she was 16, but she gave very little other information. The only other thing he gleaned from her was she was an excellent swimmer and liked shells. Eventually, after she had proved that she was a far better swimmer and a good two hours had passed, they sat on the ledge near where Jack had discarded his clothes.  
  
"So, how did you get here?" he asked, his curiosity finally unstoppable.   
  
She shrugged, "Well I'm told my father met my mother…"  
  
"No, I think I've got a fair idea on that part," Jack interrupted, "How did you get here, to this island?"  
  
"I swam" she offered. Then looked at him, "What about you?"  
  
"I flew," he shrugged in return. She found that amusing. He watched the waters hypnotic movements, the glanced back at her. She wasn't looking at him, so much, but staring rather intensely at his hair.   
  
"What?" he asked, she grinned.   
  
"Can I put one of these on you?" she asked, pulling at her braid decorated by shells.  
  
Jack grinned, now this was an opportunity to answer another question he had. "All right, love, but if you do, I get to see that art work, savvy?"  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, "It's pretty goddamn visible."  
  
Jack noted the language, then tapped her back, "I meant that one love."  
  
She seemed to debate it in her head, but eventually nodded. Getting to her feet, she went to a small cairn of rocks near by, and from behind it retrieved a small bag of oilcloth with a thin woven strap. She resumed her seat next to him, emptying the bag onto the rock. It was filled with beads and bits of shell and glass as well as a metal comb.  
  
He sat perfectly still as she combed out his hair, which up until two days ago had been a matted mess. He was finding the attention enjoyable, as well as the occasional glimpses of cleavage her position afforded him. It wasn't much more than a somewhat low cut dress would give, but until Tortuga, it would do.  
  
She worked quickly, weaving beads and shells into the lock of hair at his temple. When at last she was done, Jack observed the work as best he could. His slight fear that she would choose something that would get him, in all likelihood, beaten to the ground it appeared was unfounded. The beads she used was black, gold and silver, the shells a dark purple color, shiny like an oyster shell. Like a black pearl. Quite suitable for a pirate.  
  
"All right love, I kept my end, now you." Jack said, throwing in a leer for good measure. She sighed exaggeratedly, then turned her back to him. This was better than Jack had hoped for. That he would get a looksies no touchy warning, yes he expected. But to get her silent permission to somewhat undress her. Oh yes, Captain Jack Sparrow was still in his game.  
  
He traced the neckline with the tip of his finger, eyeing the fit. As hoped, there wasn't enough give in the material which obliged him to brush the straps of the shift off her shoulders. He was gratified to see goose bumps raise on her arms and the hand he could see bunch the strap of her bag. Though he could see he wouldn't be able to see anything other then her back, as the hand he couldn't see was holding the front of the shift up, it was enough of a tease to make his mouth water.   
  
"So," she started, then cleared her throat and started again, "So, what do you think?"  
  
"Very nice," he said under his breath, and then remembered he was supposed to be looking at her tattoo.   
  
It was a ship in full sail, the water slashing against the sides. Given the angle most of the ships sides were not shown, but the bow was clearly visible. The figurehead was a dragon or sea serpent, sleek and smiling. It was a beautiful tattoo. He traced it lightly, smiling as the goose bumps made a return, along with a small shiver.   
  
He leaned forward, "Where did you get this, love?" he asked softly.   
  
Ann made a small sigh, leaning back obviously without realizing it. "Tortuga," she said, then tensed.  
  
"What were you doing in Tortuga?" he asked, a little more sharply then he intended.   
  
"What do you know about Tortuga?" she returned, pushing her straps back up and slinging her bag so it went across her body. She jumped to her feet, "I have to go, tis almost noon."  
  
"Wait," Jack said, suddenly very reluctant to let her go, "Can't you stay?"  
  
Ann paused, but shook her head, "I have to go." Then she smiled, "I'm sure we'll meet again."  
  
Jack watched as she made her way quickly across the rock, skipping over rock pools without slipping, until she came to the cliff. She walked along it out past the shore, walking across the rock ledge until she came to the end of the outcrop, a good fifty yards away from the shore, then disappeared. Jack wasn't sure whether she dived into the water or slipped around the rock.  
  
Only that she was gone.  
  
Suddenly the rum looked a lot more welcoming. Looking around he noticed there was a fairly easy path winding from the beach to the cliffs above. The cliffs were higher here than anywhere else on the island and would give a view of the whole island. Jack shifted, well since Ann had left, and already he was wondering how much of her was real, and how much was the rum and involuntary chastity, he'd better walk it off. He dressed and set off, a little disappointed when the path was not very difficult.  
  
Walking away from the beach he was a good half mile from the starting place when he reached the peak. The view was a surprise though. Out to one side he could see the rumrunners ship, all around the blue sea and the green islands. And most surprisingly, below him, half hidden in a cove was a pirate ship. Well that was something interesting, no mistake. Another swig of rum and the ship was still there. What the hell was in this stuff? First a girl appearing and disappearing, now a full blown ship. He touched the braid to reassure himself that at least Ann was real.  
  
It took him a while to remember where he left his small telescope, but he eventually located it in the sash around his waist. Glancing around to ensure the sun wouldn't betray him, he extended it and settled himself into a comfortable position. It was defiantly a pirate ship, the flag and lack of uniforms confirmed that. What really interested him was the small rowboat heading towards the ship. In it was a figure, one of the cabin boys probably, the slight figure in a dark green jacket and baggy brown pants, a tricorner hat concealing their face. In good strong strokes, the 'boy' maneuvered the small boat to the ships side, using ropes to haul themselves up. Upon springing onto the deck the figure removed their hat, revealing curling red hair. The telescope confirmed it. It was Ann, apparently completely at home amongst the ruffians and vagrants. She was lending a hand in hauling up the boat and even helping with the rigging. Well, well, this was a day for surprises.  
  
The ship was vaguely familiar, and it took Jack a moment to remember it. The Maeve, The pirate ship captained by Sam Morgan. Its reputation was colorful to say the least. If you believed the stories, it took on Spanish gold ships and had never been caught by the English navy. It was one of the more successful pirate ships and captained by one of the finest pirate captains to sail the sea.   
  
Jack whistled under his breath. Nice company Ann was keeping.   
  
He took his time, leisurely watching her as she nimbly climbed rigging and helped as a crew member. It was dangerously close to sunset when he finally left, running for the beach where the rumrunners said to meet.  
  
She said they would meet again, well, Tortuga wasn't far away, and sooner or later all ships came there.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Review are needed, and suggestions are always ALWAYS welcome 


	2. Chapter 2

Sea Maiden  
  
  
  
A/N: Hi, much thanks to emerald medallion, my first reveiwer. I'm posting as I go, so sometimes the order will change, but I will give notice.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
18 months later  
  
Tortuga was living up to its reputation tonight, Jack noted, fairly pleased. The taverns were all full, the prostitutes were in unusually good looks and moods. With very good and hopefully potent rum, Jacks night was looking up. He only had the one night in Tortuga and he intended to enjoy it.   
  
After the rumrunners rather unceremoniously left him on the dock eighteen months before he had lived in Tortuga for a month, waiting for word of The Black Pearl or Ann and The Maeve. After getting neither, he had signed up to the first ship going in the direction he wanted. While he had not been in his captaincy, it was still on the sea, and it was a way to search for the Pearl. That voyage which ended that afternoon had proved fruitless and so he had joined a new one, the downside being that it left in the morning.   
  
With that in mind, Jack checked how much he had left in his purse and eyed the rather… buxom blonde by the fireplace. If he couldn't charm her, he had about enough. Jack prided himself on the fact he rarely had to pay, there were few women who could resist his charm.   
  
Once again his thoughts turned to Ann. It was strange, she was always just there in the back of his mind. He had only really become aware of it when after a particularly enjoyable interlude 16 months earlier the woman asked who Ann was. He hadn't heard her saying she didn't mind, just to warn her next time, he had been too busy dressing and freaking out.  
  
He took a pull of rum and looked around. Then choked and did a double take.  
  
Ann was standing in the door of the tavern. He considered swearing off rum, then took another swig anyway. She was slightly taller than he remembered, and her hair was longer, but it was undeniably her standing there. Dressed in navy-issue trousers (A/N: you know, the white ones all the navy people in uniform wear) and a dark green dress jacket that was too large over a creamy poets shirt. God, she looked good.   
  
The blonde woman forgotten, he watched Ann as she confidently moved to take a seat at a table with three men. They were all pirates, by the look, and hardened at that. None could have been under 40, Jack wondered what she was doing with them.  
  
Well, she was drinking, that was for sure. The bottle she got a hold of was in no way water and she was not sipping it. By the color, Jack assumed it was rum. He was really starting to like this girl. She was what, 17, 18 now? Woman, she was a woman.  
  
She didn't drink like one, but from what he remembered of her curves she was definitely a woman. He wondered if she had any new art work.  
  
There was a thought, one that merited further investigation.  
  
That in mind, he grabbed his bottle and stood, trying to work out the fastest way to get to her and to get her out of here.  
  
It turned out he needn't have bothered. Four men, young and from their expressions, with more brawn than brains, approached her table and said something that made her companions go for their weapons, and Ann get to her feet. Though Jack couldn't hear what was said, he could make an educated guess. These men were obviously stupid, Jack knew from experience that no woman on Tortuga was given to taking any insults, years of dealing with the inhabitants of the port made the women tough, and given to carrying weapons. Jack believed this was where his taste in women came from, after being threatened colorfully by a Tortuga woman, trading spars and occasionally doing 'business'; the quiet and meek women prized by higher society lost all flavor.  
  
Apparently Ann fit all his tastes. Whatever she said made the four thugs very angry and when one went for his knife, in a move he couldn't see Ann had the guy on the ground crying and trying to cradle both his arm and groin at the same time. Jack applauded with the rest of the tavern, highly entertained by the impromptu show. The other three backed off, dragging their fallen mate behind them.  
  
Ann, however, seemed to have lost her taste for the tavern, taking her bottle and from the look of it making her excuses to her companions.  
  
Jack was closer to the door, and knew an opportune moment when he saw one, making his way out he barely hade time to arrange himself to look casual before she stepped out. She exhaled, and took a swig of her bottle, then turned around and almost walked into him.  
  
"Sorry," she muttered not looking up, making to sidestep him. He stepped in her way again, "How about another swim love?" he said.  
  
Her head snapped up and it was her turn to choke on her drink. "Jack?" she said incredulously.  
  
He was inordinately pleased she remembered him, even happier when upon recognizing him she threw her arms around him, breathing a hello in his ear. He held her a little longer and a little more tightly than was proper in most levels of society, before releasing her.   
  
"See," she said, poking him lightly in the chest, "I told you we would meet again."  
  
"So you did," he agreed, then made a mockery of a courtly bow and held out his arm, "Care to join me love?"  
  
She smiled, taking his arm. She let him lead, they made their way down towards the docks, then away from them away from the town. Ann didn't appear discomfited in the least at their remoteness, but they had swum together, so he guessed she thought she could trust him. He felt the sudden and unfamiliar urge to prove worthy. He was Jack Sparrow, he reminded himself. Captain Jack Sparrow. Acting like a little boy.  
  
He gave a short laugh, which drew a curious look from Ann, but she didn't question it.  
  
When he found the perfect spot, a stretch of empty sand with a few bits of driftwood and a clear view out of the harbor to the open sea he gestured for her to sit. Ann seemed to appreciate it, she sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her and taking another long draw from her bottle.  
  
"So, Jack, who are you really?" she asked meditatively, looking up at him.  
  
He took a seat next to her, so close their shoulders were almost touching. He must have had some serious rum, he thought later, as he actually answered truthfully. "I'm the Captain Jack Sparrow, a shipless Captain who is not nearly as drunk as he'd like to be." A sense of absurdity struck him, "And as I'm sharing, I want a little information, savvy?"  
  
"I'm Rhiannon Morgan," She said, "I sail on the Maeve, but under no particular rank, and I'm more drunk than my father would approve of."  
  
Jack laughed at that. He raised his bottle in salute, "I'll drink to that love," he said. It occurred to him that he was sitting next to the daughter of Sam Morgan. That explained her ease on the ship, and her confidence in the tavern. No one would touch the daughter of the infamous pirate, especially as according to what he had seen and the few stories about her she could more than take care of herself. No one knew anything of her mother, she had just suddenly appeared one day, and disappeared a few years later. There were rumors of attack and such, but no one really knew.  
  
"How long are you in Tortuga?" she asked, interrupting his reassessment.  
  
"Just tonight, I have to be on deck by dawn," he said, feeling more than a little regretful, then a new thought struck him, "So, is it Ann or Rhiannon?"  
  
"I like Rhian better," she said in a non-committal tone, "But I don't mind really either way."  
  
"Rhian," Jack tested the name. He liked it, it suited her more then Ann.  
  
"Jack," she replied. She lay back in the sand, looking up at the sky.  
  
It was looking at her than: laying next to him, lit by moonlight, her eyes closed one arm holding a rum bottle and the other used to cushion her head, that he realized how much he wanted her.  
  
She was the strangest woman he had ever met. She was a mix of practical and whimsy, she was well spoken and at the same time tough as most pirates, if he could judge by the amount of rum she was had drunk with no visible effect. She was hard and soft and unlike any other woman he knew. She could face a strange man on an island where she wouldn't be able to be helped and showed no fear. She would play hide and seek with said stranger. That had been enjoyable, he remembered, he had sneaked up behind her, grabbing her around the waist, causing her to jump and accidentally rub herself against him. The only problem was she apparently had no idea what she was doing to him.  
  
"Why did you trust me, Rhian?" he asked suddenly, the need to know overwhelming. He knew he was probably making a fool of himself, he definitely wasn't acting like the image of Jack Sparrow he tried to cultivate. But he needed to know.  
  
"Excuse me?" Rhian said, looking at him. Her accent still got stronger when she was surprised.  
  
"When we first met, why did you trust me?"  
  
"I don't know," she said, "I just did."  
  
Jack nodded. He had a feeling she wouldn't answer, but he had hoped.   
  
"I just looked at you and did," She continued, toying with her bottle, her eyes trained on the horizon, refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
Jack gave his most rakish grin and lay down in the sand beside her.  
  
The spent the night like that, laying next to each other and talking but more often just in comfortable silence. Jack was very pleased with himself when he managed to coax her to let him hold her in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. When dawn came, they parted ways, Rhian heading towards the town, Jack for the docks. Jack was tempted to jump ship, to stick around, just do something to stay longer, but this was not the opportune moment.  
  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
A/N: not sure about this chapter. Tell me what you think. 


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